Nighttalk
by Sandra S
Summary: Harm and Webb deal with each other. Although not exactly voluntarily...
1. Setting the ring

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Author's note: This is no "who gets the girl" story. This is about two men who were almost friends once ... and now have a problem.  
  
---  
  
- USS Seahawk, early evening  
  
Harm arrived at the bridge and walked over to Captain Johnson who was standing in front of the windows to the flight deck. The Captain waved his hand without turning around when he stood to attention and kept peering out into the growing darkness. Harm followed his gaze.  
  
A big helicopter was slowly approaching the deck, swaying dangerously in the hard and unsteady wind. The machine drifted too far to the left, pulled up again and maneuvered into a better position for a second try.  
  
"What are they doing, damn it," Johnson growled irritated, "They're going to ruin my deck!"  
  
The helo shook in an especially nasty gust of wind and then hit the landing mark much harder than intended. Immediately the deck crew ran forward to secure it in its position. Captain Johnson scowled and turned to Harm.  
  
"Well, Commander, I've heard you've solved our little problem?"  
  
"Yes, Sir." Harm explained the circumstances of the theft that wasn't a theft but a bad joke that went south and how nobody had had the courage to tell the truth. The whole thing was in the end just one more example for the old rivalry between Navy and Marine Corps. Especially on a ship that was packed to the gills like the Seahawk was at the moment.  
  
"Well, at least you've worked quickly." Johnson motioned to a young seaman with a pad and looked over the figures before he sent him away with a satisfied nod. "To be honest: I've been surprised you have been sent because of it. A simple theft - even of ammunition - seems a bit low for the rank of a Commander."  
  
"Ah-," Harm cleared his throat, "Admiral Chegwidden likes to remind his staff that no case is too low for a good attorney." He didn't mention that he was still on Chegwidden's wrong side ... and would probably be for quite some more time.  
  
"Well, a good point of view," remarked the Captain, "By the way, there's something else I have to tell you. As you have already noticed we are pretty stuffed at the moment with all these Marines on board and now we've got some more visitors for the night -" He paused when a movement behind Harm's back caught his eye. He nodded. "Ah, yes, speaking of guests. Thank you, Mr. Logan. Welcome on board Mister...?"  
  
"Webb."  
  
Harm spun around and stared at Clayton Webb who had just entered in company with a petty officer. Webb stared back. The temperature on the bridge dropped about ten degrees.  
  
"Mister Webb," continued Johnson. "I was just about to tell Commander Rabb here that we're short of space so you two will have to share a room for the night. But I'm sure you'll understand this little discomfort..." Johnson trailed off and looked from one man to the other. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Harm's face was frozen in shock and Webb wore a matching expression. He slowly drew his eyes from Harm and focused on the Captain.  
  
"Well..." He cleared his throat. Harm just kept looking. "Captain... Maybe this isn't the best arrangement."  
  
Johnson raised his brows. "You two know each other?"  
  
Webb glanced at Harm and then quickly away.  
  
"So to say, Sir," Harm searched for the right words. "Mister Webb and I ... have had some differences in the past."  
  
Johnson's brows furrowed. "Anything that'll keep you from walking out of your room alive tomorrow?"  
  
Harm looked at Webb and Webb looked at Harm. None of them gave an answer.  
  
Obviously Johnson took this as a no. His brows dropped back down. "Fine. So this is settled."  
  
He turned away. So he unfortunately missed the next look that passed between the two men behind his back. He would have given his decision a second thought if he had. 


	2. Round one

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
---  
  
- USS Seahawk, much later this evening  
  
Harm hesitated in front of the heavy iron door leading to his room. He had stayed away as long as possible but he didn't want to skip his entire night sleep. Not because of Webb. He sighed. Oh, well, maybe Webb was already sound asleep that would spare them a lot of trouble. He pushed the door open and stepped into the small room.  
  
Webb was sitting at the tiny table, shoved into the right corner opposite to the narrow bunk beds on the left-hand side, and immediately looked up. He had shed the jacket of his dark suit but vest and tie were still in place. His fingers rested on the keyboard of his laptop.  
  
The two men considered each other for a long moment.  
  
Then Harm shut the door with a little more force than necessary. Webb turned back to his computer and continued tapping away. The silence besides the clicking sound of the keys was deep and telling.  
  
Harm walked to one of the narrow metal lockers left to the table and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. He threw them on the lower bed then started to unbutton his uniform-shirt. Webb's fingers kept moving steadily over the keyboard. The spy held his gaze firmly glued to the screen.  
  
Harm stepped out of his shoes and changed into the sweatpants and another T- shirt before carefully hanging his uniform up. The little sounds of the keys seemed to get louder and louder. Harm pressed his lips together. He knew it was imagination but still... The sound was starting to get on his nerves.  
  
"I just hope you don't want to keep this up all night," he suddenly spat out.  
  
"I have to finish this," Webb answered without looking up or even a pause in his tapping.  
  
"I'm sure you do," Harm growled. He straightened his uniform to avoid wrinkles. "Planning some new hair-raising operation you can drag innocent people into and then leave them hanging? Intending to use the Navy once more?"  
  
Webb's fingers stilled abruptly. He shot Harm a short glance without turning his head.  
  
"Oh, yeah, now we're back to 'the big bad CIA is spoiling the good old Navy', aren't we?" His voice was sharp.  
  
"That's what the CIA is usually doing if I remember correctly. You're the best example, don't you agree?"  
  
"Well, you were all gung-ho of becoming a member when you were offered a plane to fly, don't *you* agree?" Webb shot back.  
  
Harm gritted his teeth. He slipped his shoes back on.  
  
"Maybe," he admitted finally, "But you were really in a hurry to get rid of me again. Afraid I could endanger your job?"  
  
Webb snorted. "Sorry to destroy your illusions but you'd never be able to do my job."  
  
"For once I agree with you." Harm made a face. "I don't like to intrigue against co-workers. I'm sure you had a lot of fun talking them into kicking me out."  
  
Webb looked straight ahead. "The boss called me into his office, showed me a tape of your little TV appearance and asked me if things like that were going to happen again in my opinion. What should I have done - lie?" He snorted again. "Believe me, you were as wrong for the Agency as the Agency was for you."  
  
"As if you are the right person to assess that!"  
  
"Better than you are!"  
  
"I see," Harm scoffed, "And next you'll tell me I have to be grateful for what you did." He reached for his washbag and a towel. "For having the great opportunity to experience unemployment first hand."  
  
"Don't be silly. Unemployed when AJ was already craving to get his golden boy back?" Webb turned on his chair and glared at him.  
  
"Good God, you're really thinking I owe you a favor for this." Harm shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"I don't. But it wouldn't matter anyway. You already owe me more than you'll ever be able to repay." Webb clenched his fists. He imitated Harm's voice: "Webb, I need information about this and that. Oh, I know it's classified but can't you annoy your boss and give it to me anyway? It's a matter of morality." He continued in his normal voice, although it was barely more than a hiss. "If it wasn't a simple: Webb, I need this information or you'll regret it!"  
  
"*I* owe *you*?" Harm laughed out loud. "All debts I ever had were paid when you dragged Mac into that mess in Paraguay."  
  
Webb drew in a sharp breath. "Leave Paraguay alone. That the mission went south wasn't my fault!"  
  
"Poor planning, poor judgment - sounds pretty close to your usual modus operandi."  
  
Hurt and anger fought in Webb's eyes.  
  
"Sorry to remind you," he hissed, "but Mac was there on her own free will. She knew what she was doing and how dangerous it could get."  
  
"Like you told her *everything* and held nothing back." Harm could tell he had hit a soft spot and it felt damn good to turn the knife. He walked to the door. "She could have been killed!"  
  
Webb's look snapped back to the wall.  
  
"She knew what she had signed up to," he repeated but he sounded defensive. "And I paid for my mistakes. I paid dearly."  
  
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot." Harm turned in the open door. "But you used your payment pretty well to crawl for some compensation, don't you?"  
  
"Well, now we come down to the core," Webb narrowed his eyes at him, "Jealous, Harm?"  
  
"Jealous of what? Mac's pity? No, thank you!" Harm slammed the door behind him. 


	3. Round two

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
---  
  
- USS Seahawk, the same evening  
  
Harm opened the door and stepped back into the room. Webb sat at the little table like he hadn't moved at all during the last twenty minutes. Without a word Harm took the towel off his shoulder to hang it up. Then he put the bag back into the locker, stripped to his briefs and crawled into the lower bed.  
  
Webb ignored him studiously. He pretended to be fully occupied reading what he had just typed in. Just his rigid back revealed he had noticed Harm's return.  
  
Harm shifted back and forth and took more time than necessary to arrange the blanket over his body. Finally he turned to the wall and closed his eyes, determined to ignore the light. The clicking of the laptop-keys started again. Then paused. Started again. And stopped. Somehow the silence was harder to bear than the sound before it. Harm opened his eyes and stared at the wall. The clicking started again. He groaned and turned.  
  
"You're really intending to keep this up!"  
  
"I'm really intending to finish this." Webb scrolled up and down in his document. "Believe it or not but it's important. And anyway I'm used to finish what I've started."  
  
Harm snorted. "Well, maybe you should learn what to keep your fingers from then."  
  
Webb spun around. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Exactly what I've said." Harm sat up.  
  
They glared at each other. Both refusing to give in first.  
  
"Why did you have to go after Mac?" Harm hissed suddenly, "You knew exactly what I'm feeling for her!"  
  
"Excuse me? *You* and feeling for her?" Webb coughed. "You've worked with her seven years and I've never seen you making a move! I knew *she* had a crush on you, but you?! That you've given her a cold shoulder would be a friendly description!"  
  
"I've given her a cold shoulder? At least I wasn't trying to get her killed like *you* did several times since we've known you! You and your 'favors'!"  
  
"Four years I haven't asked any of you to do a 'favor', as you call it, for the Agency! Either you came to me and asked for information or we met due to the circumstances!"  
  
"Oh, so Paraguay doesn't count?"  
  
"Paraguay wasn't my decision. I was way too far down the ladder at that point, thank you very much!"  
  
Harm clenched the blanket in his fist. "Oh, and so you've simply decided it was suddenly time to confess your love? Out of nowhere? Damn it, you've said you knew she was in love with me and I think I've proved in Paraguay that I'm feeling the same for her!"  
  
"You wouldn't believe it but torture does sometimes funny things to you - like reminding you of how mortal we all are!" Webb was fuming. "And what proof of your feelings, for heaven's sake?!"  
  
Harm opened his mouth but Webb cut him short.  
  
"Oh, wait, you gave up your career to save her. Let's see... As far as I remember you've risked your career *and* your life more than once when you were searching for your father. And - oh, don't let me forget that - you resigned your commission for your brother and were about to take off and run into a war in your attempt to save him just like you did for Mac. That makes her what - your sister?"  
  
"Mac isn't like a sister to me!" Harm barked. "You knew she isn't!"  
  
"And how should I have known?" Webb screamed back. "You never bothered to tell us in Paraguay that you've resigned your commission to go after her! At least not straight away. You were busy bitching around!"  
  
"When I told you, you couldn't care less! You just went on!"  
  
Webb had obviously trouble breathing. "You're really expecting me to back down just because you've finally made up your mind and decided *now* you're in love with her? I've risked my career many times for you and in the end almost managed to throw it away but I'm not *that* selfless! Besides, that's Mac's decision, isn't it? If she really wants you after seven years of *nothing*! And by the way, I still don't think I've ever heard that you've declared undying love to her!"  
  
"Well, you were very quick to do that when you *finally* got an opportunity! Playing the 'I'm so damn badly injured' card!" Harm spat, "Too bad that she told me later she has no thing about you!"  
  
Webb jerked back on his chair. His face was as white as snow. For some heartbeats they just stared at each other, both panting hard. Then Webb turned sharply away. His hands trembled with rage as he shut down his laptop. Harm could see he was having a hard time dealing with this last blow. Suddenly Webb got up and stared down at him.  
  
"Probably I'd have never told her how I feel without Paraguay or the months before - but I will not excuse myself because I didn't die or ended up as a cripple. You have no clue how long I've been in love with her. And no matter what she told you - or whatever you thought she was telling you: Anyway it's out in the open now and I will not stop to try and fight. Not even for a friend."  
  
Harm snorted distastefully. "Go ahead, you can ask Mic Brumby for advice. He'd tried that before," he hissed, "And we're no friends! Friends don't go after the other one's girl! Friends care!"  
  
"Oh, yes, that's one true statement!" Webb was still pale with fury. He crossed the room in a few steps. "Friends care about what has happened to the other one! You didn't! I could have died and you didn't! Not for a second!"  
  
This time Webb slammed the door. 


	4. Round three

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
---  
  
- USS Seahawk, later that night  
  
The silence was chilly at best when Webb returned to the cabin almost an hour later. Harm watched as he just grabbed his washbag and walked back out without even a glance.  
  
It wasn't better when he reappeared after his evening routine. Webb simply sat, opened his laptop and checked his work. The time crept along and its weight rested heavy on the room. Harm was lying motionless on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, very aware of his own breathing. He held his gaze fixed to the bed above him but from time to time he shot quick glances at the other man.  
  
Finally Webb seemed to be satisfied. He closed the computer and zipped it up in its bag. Harm still didn't move. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Webb undress, straighten his suit and hang it up like he himself had done hours before. And suddenly a slightly reddish scar on Webb's thigh caught his gaze. He turned his head.  
  
He knew where that scar came from. He had been frightened by the blood on Webb's leg and also by the sweat and pain on his face when he'd found him. In fact Palmer had come near to killing Webb twice: Once the night before and then again as Harm led him involuntarily to Clayton's hiding place. And sometimes he could still feel the point where Palmer's bullet had grazed his own temple, knocking him down to the ground.  
  
Webb pulled up a pair of sweatpants and tugged his shirt in. Then he noticed that Harm was staring at him. And he noticed the direction of his gaze. For a moment he just stood there until Harm looked up and their eyes met.  
  
Quickly both men turned away - surprised to feel a sudden sting of sadness and not sure how to handle it.  
  
Harm rolled onto his side, facing once more the wall. The bed frame shook as Webb climbed up to the upper bed. Then the metal holding the mattress creaked while he searched for a comfortable position. Finally he reached out and turned off the light. The darkness was unexpected complete.  
  
The myriad sounds of a ship at sea filled the silence without breaking it. Both men stared into the black nothing, their thoughts still lost in memories.  
  
"Have I ever been anything else than a source of information?" Webb's quiet question seemed to hang in the air.  
  
Harm looked up to where he knew the upper bed had to be. He didn't answer at first. Then he sighed.  
  
"Does it matter any more?"  
  
It was Webb's turn to think about that.  
  
"I guess not," he said finally.  
  
The seconds ticked by, forming to minutes.  
  
"You have been," Harm stated calmly. Webb didn't respond. "Even though you've been absolutely impossible at times."  
  
"You've never understood what sacrifices I have to make in my line of work. You still don't."  
  
"Well, you clearly enjoyed making these sacrifices too much!"  
  
"God, you never even tried to understand me, did you? For you everything is personal. Black or white, good or bad, Harmon Rabb junior or the rest of the world. Hello, earth to Harm! Life isn't that easy! Sometimes you have to compromise, even if it hurts," Webb snapped.  
  
"Some things don't work with a compromise. Like the integrity of people."  
  
"Sometimes you have to sacrifice even that."  
  
"You're one arrogant bastard! How do you live with yourself?"  
  
"As if you are such a bunch of flowers to deal with!"  
  
Silence again.  
  
Harm stared into the darkness. He tried to get his emotions back in check. There was no use in talking with Webb. There had never been a use in talking with Webb. There was always an ulterior motive, always a quid pro quo, always - always... He forced himself to stop his mental ranting. He couldn't stand where it was leading to. He couldn't stand the thought that... But at the same time he needed to know.  
  
"Why did you rescue Sergei and bring him to the States?"  
  
A long time came no answer to his question. Webb didn't move. In the end Harm wasn't sure if the other man was even breathing.  
  
"Maybe because it's possible that I have a brother somewhere out there too," Webb whispered suddenly. "Maybe because it was what I wish someone would do for me if I had."  
  
Harm's eyes grew wide. He had to gulp down a lump in his throat. But yes, somehow it made sense. Strange, but he always tended to forget that Webb's father had disappeared too.  
  
"Have you... Have you ever ... tried to find out?"  
  
"I don't have your freedom to do that," Webb sounded a little bit tired.  
  
Harm frowned. "My *freedom*? What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Webb snorted. "The Agency doesn't like employees with a crusade. I wondered what that paper was for that I had to sign when I joint the CIA. I thought it was standard procedure. To prevent anybody from using the sources there for private intentions. When I found out it had been modified due to the special circumstances ... it was too late."  
  
"I - I don't understand." Harm kept glancing up into the darkness. "I thought you were following in your father's footsteps ... like I did."  
  
Webb smiled bitterly. Something of that showed in his voice. "Come on, Harm, we're talking about the CIA. You really think I grew up knowing what my father did for a living? Please. I could have blown his cover. A lot of wives didn't know the business of their husbands back then and children are still not allowed to know in our days. It's too dangerous. Too complicated. Or in other words: A matter of National Security."  
  
And then the realization hit Harm.  
  
"You were talking about yourself. In front of the stars at Langley," Harm choked at the words, "The Angle Shark incident. You were talking about yourself!"  
  
"Go to sleep, Harm." Webb turned to his side. He had underestimated the pain he felt again.  
  
"Does your father have a star on this wall? Or don't you know even that?"  
  
"Go to sleep."  
  
"Clay, you can't leave it like that. Why did you never tell me-"  
  
"Tell you what, Harm? That I miss my father like you do? That I'm goddamned jealous because you finally found out the truth about what had happened to him? Would you have listened? Would you have cared? We aren't friends, remember?" Webb hissed angrily.  
  
"Not when you're acting like a jerk - like you do right know! Like you did when it came to Mac!" Harm felt his own anger boiling again.  
  
"Why the heck was I acting like a jerk when I finally admitted to myself that I *have* feelings for her?!"  
  
"What about *her* feelings? She already had one man dying in her arms! Or isn't this about Mac but because I didn't *care* enough in your opinion? Is this your reason to make a competition out of this?!"  
  
"If you really think that then you're a bigger idiot than I've already thought you to be! I want Mac because she *is* Mac. You only want her because you can't stand seeing her with another man!"  
  
"Oh, shut up, Webb!"  
  
The bed frame shook and groaned as both men rolled forcefully over and pulled their blankets higher. Then any sound died again. A long time passed.  
  
"Mac is worth a fight," Harm whispered suddenly, more to himself.  
  
"Yes," murmured Webb, "She is."  
  
None of them broke the following silence. 


	5. What is left

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

- USS Seahawk, early the next morning

Webb woke with a start at the first sound of his tiny alarm clock and silenced it quickly. He heard Harm first stir in the lower bed then roll over as he switched on the light. Making as little noise as possible he climbed down and got dressed but left vest, tie and jacket on the hook. Instead he grabbed his washbag once more and quietly left the room.

When he returned Harm was still turned towards the wall and breathing evenly. Webb didn't try to talk to him. In silence he finished dressing, gathered his things and closed his bag. After one last look around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything he sat down to check his gun. Finally he slung his bag over his shoulder, picked up his laptop in its cover and walked to the door. There he hesitated for a split second. He knew Harm wasn't sleeping any more.

Pictures came to his mind. Harm's little nod in the courtroom during Admiral Boon's court marshal to thank him for persuading the key-witness into taking the stand. His look of relief when he was told that Sergei was a prisoner but at least alive. His voice full of sympathy as they watched the tape of the Angel Shark and talked about Webb's transfer.

Webb sighed softly but then he just opened the door, stepped out and closed it behind him.

After he had waited a few minutes in the corridor a very young seaman approached him. The fresh face showed surprise that Webb was already waiting.

"Uh- Good morning, Sir. Seaman Calpony. The helicopter is ready, Sir. I'm sent to show you the way-"

"Well, then take the lead," Webb snapped not too friendly. He followed the boy - he couldn't bring himself to think of him as a man - through the labyrinth of steel towards the flight deck. Unsuccessfully he tried to shake off the strange feeling pulling at him. The feeling that he had lost something precious ... that had meant a lot to him.

* * *

At the sound of the closing door Harm opened his eyes and rolled on his back. He tugged his hands under his head. Taking deep breaths he stared at the bottom of the upper bed without seeing it. So much was going through his head he wasn't able to sort out.

What had happened last night? So much anger and pain ... how had it come so far? And why did he feel so ... sad? There was no reason to feel sad. You shouldn't feel sad because of something you never had.

Harm tried to push the pictures away. Webb's raised eyebrows as he changed places with Bobby Latham in his office at Langley and he realized that he had been tricked into helping in Admiral Boon's case. The look on his face when he told him and Renee that he had resigned his commission and would go and search for Sergei. His cold voice after he had accused him of lying under oath.

Harm blinked then he continued to stare. He could feel his heart beating. When he swallowed the sound seemed to echo in the room. Slowly he shook his head.

And he could still hear the unmistakable little sounds of a gun being checked.

Suddenly Harm sat and swung his feet from the mattress. He headed for his uniform. The trousers seemed to be all tangled up and cursing under his breath he fought to get them on. He needed two attempts to fasten his belt. Unfortunately his hurry did nothing to improve the situation. By the time he had managed to get into his shoes he had almost tore his uniform-shirt. He buttoned the last button at the door, jerked it open and didn't bother to shut it correctly.

He started to run. His steps pounded on the deck.

* * *

Webb closed his jacket with one hand and shook his head as Calpony offered again to take his bag. The young seaman opened the door to the flight deck and the sound of whirling rotor blades swept in together with a sharp gust of wind.

"Webb!" The scream drowned in the deafening noise.

Webb narrowed his eyes against the wind, braced his shoulders and grabbed his bags tighter. Calpony nodded to him.

"CLAY!"

Webb froze in the middle of his step. Then he spun around. His face showed his surprise.

Harm stumbled to a halt and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The young seaman showed enough wits to shut the door so the noise sank to a bearable level. Finally Harm brought himself in an upright position and met Webb's eyes.

For a long moment they just stared at each other until Harm cleared his throat. He made a small gesture with his head and shoulder.

"Well, whatever you're up to, Clay ... don't get yourself killed."

For what seemed to be an eternity Webb didn't move a muscle. Then he gave Harm a tight-lipped smile and a short nod. After some more seconds he looked down and turned away.

The young seaman jumped and quickly opened the door then pulled it shut behind them. A few minutes later the steel vibrated under the force of the rotor blades speeding up even more and stilled again as the helo took off.

Harm stood deep in thoughts. Slowly he raised his fist and tapped a few times against the next wall. The metal was cold to the touch. After one last look to the door he walked down the corridor.

* * *

The end.

Author's note:

"Nighttalk" was "a night's talk" and I think you can't restore a badly damaged friendship in one night. So yes, it really ends here.

Once more a big thank you for all the reviews!!


End file.
